TEASER: Untitled
by shmalligator
Summary: A teaser of a story I may continue with, or may not, depending on how much interest it generates.  Please CC!  OliverWoodxOC  T for language.


This is just a teaser for a story I'm half working on, but I want to see if it generates any interest before I get too invested in it. I have it completely outlined, the whole first chapter written, as well as some other tidbits like the one I'm about to share, but before I go further I'd like some feedback. Here's a bit that's in the beginning-middleish; I hope you enjoy it! Please R&R, and I'd also love some CC! Keep in mind that this hasn't even been edited xD so it's kind of rough.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Harry Potter series, unfortunately. I do, however, own a few original characters, the most important being Erin, our main girl, and a few others. Everything else is of the wonderful JK Rowling's invention. Thanks.

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_Oliver._

I looked to my left, attention drifting from Cicily as she yammered endlessly about the pros and cons of magical hair care as opposed to muggle hair care, in time to see none other than Miss Erin Banting enter the cafe. She was on the arm of a nerdy but amicable boy who I knew vaguely by the name of Conrad, both of them laughing. I actively ignored the feeling in my stomach as I judged-no, appraised-the boy. His brown hair was unruly and he was too tall; his laugh, a childlike hiccupy thing, sounded harsh compared with Erin's breezy giggle. When they sat down in a small booth, I noticed how unnaturally long his torso was as he towered above the table. Of course, Erin didn't notice-she was so damn positive. This kid could probably have a carrot sprouting from his ear and she'd be willing to overlook it.

"Oliver, are you listening to me?" Cicily demanded impatiently at my side. I looked down at her, recognizing that any boy would be happy to listen to her prattling on and on as long as they could look at her, perhaps touch her, all they wanted. I was indeed lucky, but I couldn't help notice how much makeup she was wearing.

"Oliver?"  
"Sorry, what?"  
"My haircut! Do you like it? You haven't said anything."

I had indeed not said anything, but that was because he hadn't noticed. Her hair appeared to be the same length as always-just below chin level-but of course I could never tell her this. So I smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I thought I did. It looks lovely." I reached out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear and felt her cheek grow warm, but didn't see it (probably due to her makeup). She smiled fleetingly at me, distracted suddenly by a couple walking in the door.

"Look, Daphne Clearwater! Penelope's little sister? We should say hello; I've been to Penny's house loads of times." She took my arm and began towards Daphne and her date, but I gently disentangled myself from her.

"I don't know the Clearwaters well. Why don't I just get us drinks, alright?" Though I could tell by her annoyed look that she had something to say, I got away as quickly as I could towards the counter. After ordering black coffee and a low-fat chai tea with skim milk and patiently waited as the woman prepared them. After the plump woman behind the counter gave me the two lukewarm mugs, a few things happened in quick succession: someone-presumably Cicily-called my name; a slightly timid voice behind me said hello; I turned very quickly; lastly, I knocked myself directly into the person behind me, slopping half of the hot coffee on myself. The shock of the slight heat caused me to yelp slighlty and drop both mugs.

I started to apologize before I realized that I'd knocked into none other than Erin, who also had a coffee stain spreading across her yellow sweater. For a moment we just stood there, Erin with her mouth hanging open and I staring at my soaked hands. We met eyes and up close I realized how little makeup she was wearing.

"Are you not even going to apologize?" she said icily, paying no mind to the plump woman waving her wand to clean up the broken mugs and spilled coffee.

I remembered my disaffection for this girl as I carefully formulated my response: "You're a witch. You can fix your sweater."

_Erin._

With that, he was gone, the bell on the door jingling ignorantly. The silence that had fallen over the cafe slowly disintegrated as everyone else fell back into normal conversation and I was left staring at Cicily who had apparently decided this was all my fault.


End file.
